


Imagine you dream of an ocean…

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birth Fetish, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Fpreg, Gen, Mpreg, Oviposition, Slime, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant
Summary: Original work:https://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/148362402854/imagine-you-dream-of-an-ocean
Comments: 1
Kudos: 184





	Imagine you dream of an ocean…

**Author's Note:**

> Original work:  
> https://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/148362402854/imagine-you-dream-of-an-ocean

Imagine you recently developed a mysterious unnatural power. You know things, see visions, you have even heard people’s thoughts. The people of your home town have grown suspicious of you, they don’t like what they don’t understand. For your own safety you have said goodbye to your family and joined a travelling carnival, home to people like you. People with secrets that other people would fear if they knew. People who cannot stay in one place too long.

You ply your trade as a fortune teller. You play the part of a fraudster mystic, telling cheap fortunes with a conspiratorial wink that assures your customers it’s all just for fun, none of it’s real, and to that end you only tell them the vaguest of truths. Occasionally those who know will come to you seeking the real truth, and you give it to them. They don’t always like it but they pay you well. You make do.

You make a few friends. You share a cabin with a toweringly tall strongman with perfect recall. You often eat your meals with the teleporting girl with the illusionist act, she gossips with you about who’s sleeping with who, and she whispers one time that she thinks the blind telekinetic twins are both sweet on you.

Very early on you realise that one of the members of the troupe has no act. He has his own trailer, while most people share, and no one ever speaks to him or acknowledges his presence. For a brief panicked moment you worry that you are the only one who can see him until you notice one of the roustabouts ask him to move while she sweeps where he had been standing. You ask your teleporting friend about him over lunch, but she who knows everything about everyone casts her eyes downwards and changes the subject.

Unlike so many others in your new extended family this man looks entirely ordinary. He wears plain white shirts with dark jumpers or occasionally vests, and his face would blend easily into any crowd. His eyes are the colour of a storm at sea. The first time he encountered you he gazed right into you and kissed the back of your hand. From the stunned expressions on nearby observers it was clear that it was unusual for him to approach anyone so directly. You have never seen him wear any other expression than a serene smile.

Although whenever the carnival pitches tent the configuration adapts to the space available somehow his trailer always ends up near to yours. You see him reading on the steps often. His books seem to be in French, German, Russian, and once in a language that after some research you eventually identified as Latin.

At night you dream of an ocean. You sink down into it, deeper and deeper, until you can barely see any light and then deeper still. You become aware that something is there with you in the water. Something massive and ancient. Something terrible. Unknowable. During the day the strange man watches you closely.

One night you reach out to the thing in the water with you. You brush it’s side with your fingertips and it sways towards you. You can see nothing but you feel something coil around you, slippery and silky soft. Several other somethings join it, around your legs, your arms, up around your torso and around your neck. Soon there are dozens of them sliding across every inch of your skin, caressing, exploring, touching you in a million intimate ways. One enters your mouth and you notice with disinterest that if you were awake this would be a terrifying experience. Somehow though you feel entirely at peace.

The slick appendage at first simply investigates the inside of your mouth, mapping out the area. You feel almost like you are making out with it. Then it pushes a little further and slides down your throat. You don’t seem to need to breathe and find yourself unbothered by the strangeness of it and so you simply wait with mild curiosity as to what will happen next.

You don’t have to wait long. The coils wrapped around you begin pressing their way into you, pushing in where you open for them and applying pressure where you are sensitive to it. You try to moan and writhe but you are surrounded and there is nowhere for you to go. Every move you make you are pushed back against until you are right where you are wanted. You feel them sliding against each other even inside of you, with more slithering into the available openings as you relax for them.

You reach out with your thoughts. There’s something there to connect to but you’ve never felt anything like it. It’s too vast, too alien, you feel like you could lose your mind if you spent too long in there. It sings to you, in your head. You think it’s trying to thank you.

At some point you may have felt it spend inside of you but you are too busy bucking against your otherworldly acquaintance as you reach your own climax to really be sure. You think this goes on for hours but when you wake you can barely remember any of it.

For the next few days every time you turn around the mysterious man with the stormy eyes is in your personal space, standing that little bit too close to be comfortable. Sometimes he slips a hand onto your waist as if to steady you, not possessive but still unbearably intimate. Through it all he rarely speaks, save for a few gentle suggestions that you might like to drink some water, or be more comfortable if you sat in the shade. And he never ever stops smiling even when you brush him off.

Before you can reach you limit and demand he tell you just what the hell is going on you find yourself one morning knocked to your hands and knees in your trailer with the weight of a sickening shifting sensation from your stomach. You try to call for help, but can’t get the words out. Within seconds you’re covered in a sheen of sweat and you tear at your clothes feeling as though you’re burning up. You retch and a black tar like substance dribbles out of your mouth. At the feeling of slick sliding down your thighs you probe with your fingers to discover the same substance coming out of you from behind. The shifting sensation hits you again and you have no choice, no thought in your head but to push and push hard. More and more of the tar like substance bubbles out of you, out of both ends, coming thicker and faster with each push. Very soon something more solid forces its way up your throat and you cough it onto the floor in front of you. A clear, jelly-like egg, splattered with black slime. You feel crazed and delirious and certain that more are coming and you push. They begin pouring out of you, from every orifice, several at a time and each no bigger than a golf ball. At some point you collapse into the pool of fluids and pass out.

You awaken tucked into your bed, dressed in your nightclothes with no sign of what befell you anywhere on your body or on the floor of the cabin. You think you must be going mad.

You don’t see the man with the stormy eyes that day, but that night you dream of an ocean.


End file.
